Wednesday, July 9, 2014

Ruthless Muse

kjijpovosdfpdsf: http://youtu.be/3iLZmmrr9JY

My life is so insane right now. I needed this bit of light in the darkness...

Friday, May 23, 2014

Nothing to Say (16)

Pencil in your status for the evening/jinglin' a key ring, like monsters from the sea bring/hobbled up the street like Blood in Blood out/yucky orange flavor used to get the duds out/but its all recreation/could never stand the taste'n, could never let the waste in/he guessed its better than the brown junk/less morning sickness, less time in the trunk/aerosol dreams used to paint his weekends/he stayed away from weak friends, instead would sneak the deep ends/now he's underneath the hoodie/ away from the hood, g...looking sort of poodgie/never was one for fashion/instead showed a passion for bareknuckle bashin'/so he's jinglin' his keys again/time to hit the road and get to minglin'

Sunday, March 16, 2014

Mike Marlow interviews Josh Mattocks 3/16/14

Mike: Hello Josh, aka Pablo Diablo aka MFMosh! I'm here in sunny, snowy Cleveland Ohio to conduct a short interview, focusing on your history, views, tastes in various areas, and opinion on the Purpler Hamster Foundation Society for the Preservation of Oddly Shaded Small Creatures Trust Fund Initiative.

Mike: Question 1-Where were you born, where else have been your long-term places of residence, and which of these would you like to be at right now, and why? 

Josh: I was born in New Castle, Pa. another rustbelt town like Clevo...former steel mill town that died in the 70's/80's when the steel industry dried up. I've lived all over...Florida, Maryland, Louisiana. But as far as where I call home...it's always been a tie between Cleveland and Pittsburgh. These are the places that I really came up in & I have equal love for both cities. I've spent more time in Pennsylvania at this point, have always been a Steelers hooligan...but I'll always have love for Cleveland.

Mike: Question 2-Ok, it's not exactly phrased as a proper question, but hey, it's alright. Please name 3 bands/groups that are among your all time favorites, and also 3 of your most disliked. If you need to list more than 3 it's ok, but please not too many, our servers here at MARLOWCOM are VERY busy.

Josh: Thats tough...I want to keep it local for now, and give it up for Wisdom in Chains, American Werewolves and Wreak Havoc... Three bands that I have always disliked are Kiss, Lynard Skynard, and Pantera.

Mike: Question 3-Tell me your happiest childhood memory...and what event ruined it for you.

Josh: Ahhhhh...it's a combination of things, some of the best shit was the most simple too. Kicking it with the homies in Zone, Mohichan and Madison Parks. Nothing ruined it...I mean Betsy from 7/11 tried to stop our shine, but for real...people just grew apart as we got older. If I had a wish it'd be that we could all be on a level that we were able to all communicate without any badness.

Mike: Question 4-If you could prove beyond a doubt that Kurt Cobain WAS and IS the Eternal Virgin Mary Mother Of God...would you share this information, or keep it from the masses?  

Josh:I would definitely sit on that info. For one, I am not a fan of Nirvana...and aside from that I don't think the world is ready for that sort of revelation.

Mike: Question 5-This is perhaps the most relevant social issue of our generation. If Super Jock and Freedom Rock own these fuckin Lakewood blocks.....what did Bill and Bob do??

Josh: Damn...I am trying to remember the line. "Bill and Bob cooked good pork chops"? "Bill and Bob drank soda pop"? I don't know...Don't quote me Mike, I ain't said shit.

Saturday, February 22, 2014

This is not about forgiveness...

With all of the animal insanity of the past week or so I almost forgot to record this even for future discussion and pondering. So I had better do it now before my creative filter destroys the matter all together.

For those of you who don't know me, and for those of you who do know me with out knowing all of the details of my life: I have been stabbed twice. The first stabbing taking place here in New Castle; this being the incident pertinent to the story at hand so that is the one that I will briefly detail here.

This was the mid 90's & I was walking through the projects one night on my way to work a third shift @ the plastics plant job that I hated. The projects of New Castle held then & hold now little threat of danger...after Cleveland & witnessing King Kennedy, DTW on Longwood or the pj's on E. 55th, the projects in New Castle are tame.

Be that as it may, never underestimate the stupidity of drunks in groups of 3 or more. I was walking past a group of guys out on their porch drinking, one addressed me "Whats up?" I reply with the standard "Whats up?" back and continue walking. I hear one of the group say "What the fuck did that white boy say?" I am from the street, and at that point I knew what it was, I loosened up and turned around because I was gonna face which ever of these dudes wanted to step. Three of them approach with a few left on the porch. I sized up a taller light skinned kid who seemed to pose the biggest threat and swung. It has been my experience that you are not going to talk or walk out of situations like this so the best defense is an offense. As soon as I swung I was flanked from both sides.

I made it to my feet once before being consumed by the swarm...fists and shoe rubber smashing my face and body. I had been here before. I knew that time slowed down during violence, that my best bet at this point was to cover my head and wait for these chump to impress each other enough to quit. After a minute or so that felt like a day they backed off...as I am standing up I notice a shorter dark skinned kid has a blade out...and I square up again defensive like, my attackers just laughing and heading back toward their porch and bottled toughness...as they are walking off I notice that my right arm is soaked. Blood gushing, rhythmic with my heartbeat, leaking crimson down to the concrete.

Following this, the usual chain of events unfolded...I tried to bet my homie Buddha to butterfly the wounds, but they were leaking too hard, so I had to call off work and head to the hospital and get sewn up. Life didn't change...I lived, continued walking through the same projects to work, though now I carried a knife of my own. Since that night I have held two faces in my head...the light skinned kid that I swung on and his little buddy who stabbed me. I wished every time I came back to New Castle to have a fair one with either of them...I wished this for many years.

So finally almost two decades later, I am doing all this insignificant running around, called into the middle of a sick and stupid fight between my now former roomie and her married boyfriend. I am walking back toward my house when I see the kid who stabbed me walking out of the drug den apartments @ the end of my block. He is hobbled now, maybe some back or knee injuries, looking like he is a foot shorter and a hundred pounds lighter than I am. A pure crackhead/junkie/druggie zombie...raggedy, ridiculous purple coat on over tattered pants and indistinguishable shoes. Yet seeing him, and seeing him as easy prey I couldn't bring myself to think with a vengeful mind. As time often does, a moment repeated it's self & he said "Whats up?" to me as he passed, to which I answered with a standard "Whats up?" No alcohol or friends now to pump him up...he walked his awkward walk down the dirty street we live on. I watched him as he disappeared back into the legend of my mind, another story filed away for later use.

Now I want to be clear, this is not about forgiveness. It is about compassion...and there is a difference. I do not want vengeance, karma has already done to him more than I could do. I show myself compassion that day by not being attached to anger and ideas of revenge, to do so keeps my karmic slate clean. And this guy who stabbed me? Who knows, I wish him the best...I hope that he can find a way to clean up his own slate. 

Wednesday, January 22, 2014

Witch Doctor(peace and silence)

I don't want to do anything. I just want to sit here and listen to old hardcore and suck down cigarettes and coffee. I don't want to vote for your presidents or look at your hideous baby pictures on Facebook. I don't want to answer your text messages or see whats new in your world.

Can I just read Dostoevsky in peace? Can I sew the hole in my jacket pocket in silence?

Why do you steal from me? If it isn't my clothes, it's my time...or worse yet my consciousness.

I don't want to do anything. I just want to sit here and listen to the old gods talk about the time when I was a king. I don't need a Narcotics Anonymous meeting. I don't want your church. I don't want your methadone. I don't want to reply to your non-sense.

Can I commune with Bukowski in peace? Can I listen to my Bad Brains in silence?

Why do you steal what I don't have? You are a hungry ghost, never satisfied.

I don't want to do anything. I just want to sit in the dark and smoke cheap cigars. I will not go to your party, I will not meet you for lunch(even if you are paying). I will not validate you. Can't I just be left to my own device?

Can I pour over Ginsberg's tomes in peace? Harvest my pain in silence?

Why do you insist on stealing my energy? When I disappear no one will notice.


Thursday, January 9, 2014

unleashed

destinies failed & alliances broken
the deepest of screams will sometimes go unspoken
the value of pain & chaos and truth
leaving a human shell-jaded, unmoved

this is the end result of a lifetime
embraced by nightmares, violence & crime
mind turns stone, the only solution
blood follows blood, and sweet retribution

see it in my eyes/contempt knows no disguise
like the sun falling from the sky, unleashed on this world

Monday, January 6, 2014

Too Late

The success came too late. He was already too hard...the tyrannical parents, the group homes and juvenile detention centers had taken too much energy from him. Later the bottle and the heroin and the women and the jail cells would take more energy. He looked at the world with a disinterest. He didn't hate the world, or people, but he saw the cracks in the facade. He was cynical. And he had no anxiety about this.

The small home in Venice Beach came too late. It wasn't Dogtown anymore. It wasn't a surf ghetto by the sea. He may as well still live in Pittsburgh, he would often think this as he walked the beach. California was dead...His Bukowski was gone. His Black Flag was gone. He saw Keith Morris on a regular basis and he never bothered to approach him. What was the point?

The peace came too late. He no longer could appreciate it. The chaos that had coddled him no longer allowed for peace to be a mistress. He could no longer understand or operate in it.

The success came too late.

Sunday, January 5, 2014

Wind Up (part I)

"When I was young and they packed me off to school, and they taught me how not to play the game. I didn't mind if they groomed me for success or if they said that I was just a fool...So I left there in the morning with their "god" tucked underneath my arm, their half-assed smiles and the book of rules. So I asked this god a question and by way of firm reply he said "I'm not the kind you have to wind up on Sunday"  So to my old headmaster, or to anyone who cares; before I'm through I'd like to say my prayers."

Ian Anderson-Wind Up/Aqualung 1972

And so before I am through I will want to have my say...If anything in life I have been too fair, too forgiving to people and elements that are not so inclined to fairness or forgiveness as I am. I have been developed the most keen introspect, and I am able to see my flaws and assets clearly. This can be a curse and a blessing...while I am able to see and therefor improve my flaws, or eliminate them altogether, I am at a disadvantage at times in that while I will admit my own wrong, I expect no one to do the same. I have learned that it is not my place to point out other's faults...As is my nature, I have no desire to lead or follow so my capacity to criticize others is low. Even to a point where I will often eat shit for this quality.

So it has been decided, by me of course, that while working on various writing ventures is well and good...it may behoove me to also take time to give my account of one of the more significant and turbulent relationships in my life. To this point the relationship will remain nameless...and it may always remain so, but the point is that people familiar will know and understand my own side of the events through the years. It does me no good to be silent on the matter...in fact, it only makes me look bad and lends to the other party's one sided campaign of chicanery and delusion.

Being the good sport that I am, I will always leave this blog uncensored...and any feedback is not only welcome but encouraged. This will be all for now...but I will end by saying that this brings me no pleasure. I simply need for my side to be heard.





Thursday, December 26, 2013

Facebook Note Titled 2013

Although most of this year was spent behind the wall, I like to think it was a productive year. A mistake that many people in jail make is that they only really live two days of this sentence; the day the arrive and the day they leave. I did not make this mistake...I utilized my time, I bettered myself physically and mentally. I rehabilitated myself. With the help of my teacher and friend, Sivali, I learned more about the Buddha's Dhamma and as a result understand myself a great deal better than I did a year ago. 

I think most importantly I was able to reconnect with my family. It will take awhile with my daughters...I have been absent from their lives for too long, but we are starting to all know one another. There is work to be done ahead, but it has begun and we are moving forward.

Sometime in Dec 2012 or Jan 2013, when I was in jail I was called down to the guard's desk. The counselor, who had been accused of sexual misconduct(and who testified against one of his co-workers @ grand jury), told me that he had read by Dead End King blog...A blog that I had thrown out some opinions about the situation, and about guards behaviour in general. He told me that the administration had had a meeting about my blog. They were obviously uncomfortable with it. This made me determined to write more about my experience...and upon my release I published a great deal of my writings to a new blog- http://joshmaddog1976.blogspot.com/ I have enjoyed a healthy number of followers, and will continue to write on the experience. 

On the 5th of November, I became Guy Fawkes. I met other people who are also Guy Fawkes. I am fortunate to have met these compatriots. They have helped me to see that I am not insane...that there are others who are tired of the facade of civilization at large. People who believe, as I do, that the wheel of fate should be in the hands of the people, not just a few tyrants. 

I got to see three of my close friends get clean. 

I also lost some people this year...First, Carl Opperman. His passing remains the hardest for me to accept. I still miss him everyday and can't bring myself to delete his number out of my phone. I will see him in the pit of every show I go to...I will hear him every time I listen to Bob Marley. I want to say now that I will never forget Carl's friendship. A truer and better friend would be hard to come by. Jimmy Sullivan was beaten to death by a gang of cowards outside of a shitty bar in a shitty town. He was also a good man, and deserved a better end than he received. In May, Miami-Dade police shot and killed my friend Frito Valcin. It had been many years since I had seen him...but his death was no easier for that. A young and very lost man, Zack Frobe, who I knew only from jail died not long before I was released. He was still finding his way in the world...like so many others from this area he succumbed to drugs as a way to deal with his angst. He had a good heart and good humor. Brad Wroblewski...one of the craziest mofos to ever walk this planet passed just a month ago. He was my sponsor when I joined the Brotherhood of Irish Americans, he was my room mate for a time and a friend in my darkest hour. Finally, yesterday Sammy Shultz passed away...another person who couldn't let go of the poison. Sammy was one of those people you meet who is an instant friend...5 minutes or 5 years made no difference. I will remember all of these men fondly in the years to come and celebrate their lives rather than mourn their deaths.

In 1875 William Ernest Henely wrote a poem called Invictus. Invictus means "unbreakable", it has become my personal mantra. I wish to end this note with the poem in it's entirety. In memorial to those who have passed, and as tribute to those of us still in this world who refuse to be broken. 

INVICTUS

Out of the night that covers me,Black as the pit from pole to pole,I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstanceI have not winced nor cried aloud.Under the bludgeonings of chance My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears Looms but the horror of the shade,And yet the menace of the years Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,How charged with punishments the scroll,I am the master of my fate:I am the captain of my soul.





Monday, December 23, 2013

Diabetic shock? Hit him with the Tazer.

I want to tell a story now. Time has made it blurry...and I do not propose that this is a verbatim account. No, this is simply the incident as I remember it. I am sure everyone involved would have their own version.

At some point last year, I will say after February I was on D-Pod in Butler County Prison. It was, maybe 3 or 4 in the morning when I heard a group of guards come onto the pod.

I heard an extremely odd exchange between one of the Captains and an inmate who I was later told was going through diabetic shock. Here I will paraphrase what I heard:

Capt XXXXX: Whats your problem?

Inmate 1: What? Who are you.

Capt XXXXX: Do you know where you are?

Inmate 1: Where?

Capt XXXXX: You are in Butler County Prison.

Inmate 1: Prison? Here? Can I leave?

Capt XXXXX: No. (calling Inmate 2 by his name) Inmate 2 you are going to need to cuff up.

Inmate 2: Why? I didn't do anything...

(inmate 2 eventually cuffs up and is removed from the cell)

Capt XXXXX: Inmate 2, I am going to need you to cuff up.

Inmate 2: What?

Capt XXXXX: I will not ask you again.

Capt XXXXX to a guard standing by: If he doesn't cuff up, I am going to need you to taze him.

Inmate 2: Razzers?

I will end my account here. Eventually the inmate did cuff up and was removed from the cell and taken to medical. Of course there is protocol to consider...but what would you do in that situation? Is it reasonable to consider Tazing a non violent inmate who is obviously going through some medical issues?

Funny thing...I had actually spoke to the guard that the captain was ordering to taze the inmate if he was not compliant about a month before all this happened. The guard was a nice enough guy, reasonable & professional. I asked him one day. "You seem like a fairly bright guy...what if you came into work one day and you were asked to do something that you considered immoral?" His reply was "Well...I am the sort of guy who follows commands from my superiors, so I would have to do what I was told."

Indeed, you would. This is not maliciousness...it is banality.

think for yourself.